


auld lang syne

by eg1701



Category: Succession (TV 2018)
Genre: F/M, Ficlet Collection, M/M, New Year's Eve, New Year's Kiss
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-31
Updated: 2020-12-31
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:21:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28464501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eg1701/pseuds/eg1701
Summary: Ten years of New Year's Eves and ten very different midnights for one Tom Wambsgans.
Relationships: Greg Hirsch/Tom Wambsgans, Siobhan "Shiv" Roy/Tom Wambsgans
Comments: 15
Kudos: 46





	auld lang syne

**Author's Note:**

> i hoped to get this out today and here we are! i wish you and yours a very happy and healthy new year. tomgreg nation (and the greater succession hive)- i love you all and i'm so grateful we had this year together. it's been a real lifesaver. i'm looking forward to what next year brings
> 
> (trying to go to scotland next year for school. figured it couldn't hurt to use a scottish title in the last fic of the year!)

**I.**

Every year, Tom’s mother says that she wishes for a new year that will be better than the year before it, and that’s what he thinks about when the countdown starts in the bar. He thinks that it will be a cinch. He’s quickly falling in love with his new girlfriend, who he thinks loves him back. She promises him a lot of things, all of which he wants. 

His friends clink their beer bottles together, and Tom smiles back. It is one of the last years, he thinks, that he will spend New Years with his cousins and friends and fraternity brothers. Shiv talks about moving east. DC or New York perhaps and he will go wherever she leads and he will not mind it one bit. 

He has never been in love like this before. 

Surely, the next year will be a better one, he thinks again, as the bar cheers and someone claps him on the back.

**II.**

It is Tom’s first New Year’s Eve in New York. Shiv takes him to an exclusive party, where the drinks flow freely, and he is fairly certain everybody there has more money than he can ever think to see in his entire life. 

She hands him a glass of champagne and clinks their glasses together. 

“I’m glad you’re here,” she says. She pulls on his tie a bit, “I’m glad you agreed to come.”

“Of course,” he replies, “I feel like I’m in a movie.”

She laughs and rolls her eyes, “You’ll get used to it.”

When midnight hits, she sets her glass down, puts her arms around him and kisses him. She smells like the perfume he’d given her for Christmas, and when she pulls away, he thinks that he’s never been more in love with her.

**III.**

Tom spends the last minutes until midnight alone, because Shiv has vanished from his side. He looks around over the sea of drunken people and loud partygoers. Women in sequin dresses and men in tuxes make it look more like a Gatsby party than a twenty-first century party. Someone passes him a glass of champagne, which he downs in a few sips. The music is loud and the people are louder. He wants, for a moment, to step out into the cool air, but can’t find a way to meander through the crowd to the balcony doors.

The countdown begins. 

Shive reappears at five by his side, as if by magic. She puts a gentle hand on his arm and smiles up at him. They are both sweaty and Tom is wired from the activity. He leans down to kiss her as the clock strikes midnight. She tastes like wine and he slides his hands down to her waist, and pulls her tight against him. She stands on her toes to kiss him back, hard. 

This is the year he’s going to propose. 

**IV.**

It is another Waystar party this year, much calmer than the roaring party of the previous year. Tom isn’t sure which he likes best. But his tux is too small, and the shirt is sticking to his back. He holds his wine glass and doesn’t drink it. He watches Shiv’s figure across the room, her hips swaying slightly as she shifts her weight. He thinks her feet must be sore from wearing those heels all night. 

He wishes she would turn around. A glance at his watch tells him it’s almost midnight. He waves at Kendall across the room, who nodes politely at him and returns to his own conversation. 

Cousin Greg sits down beside him, and stretches out, all long legged and limber. Tom watched him.

“You look tired,” he says. 

Greg nods, “I don’t like parties all that much man.”

“Well it’ll be over soon,” Tom points to his watch, “And then you can leave.”

Midnight hits, and the two of them look pathetic sitting there alone, and refusing to even look at each other.

**V.**

Tom cannot find Shiv. He has the sinking feeling in his stomach that always grows when she disappears. He knows where she is, even if he doesn’t know who she is with. It’s still unclear to him which of those is worse. Would it be better if he knew? He didn’t think so really. 

“Have you seen Shiv?” he asks, touching Greg’s elbow. Greg is talking to a man, one Tom doesn’t know, and it looks like they are both enjoying it. He feels a sting of something at the idea of the two of them. 

“I think I saw her like an hour ago?” Greg replies, “I don’t know where she went though. Maybe upstairs?”

He wants to ask Greg for more, but the other man is standing very close, and he doesn’t want to intrude. He thanks Greg politely and heads off, not upstairs however. Even though he thinks Greg is right, he cannot bring himself to go upstairs. He’s too scared of what he might find. Instead, he loiters by the stairs, and when Greg and the man brush past him, on their way out, he ducks out of sight as the new year rolls in.

**VI.**

This year ends alone. There are beer bottles littering the table, and Dick Clark’s New Year’s Eve Special plays loudly on the TV. Tom pops open another bottle. Shiv is not home, nor does he think she will be coming home tonight. With everything that happened, she spends more time with her family. He thinks that their marriage will probably end soon, and he doesn’t think he’ll stop it. 

He knows he looks like the picture of pitiful, alone, half drunk, and angry on New Year’s Eve, but he doesn’t care. There’s no one around to see it. His mother calls, and he lets it go to voicemail. 

She will worry if she speaks to him and he does not want to worry her. 

Instead, he texts Greg, who’s contact he has had open all evening, but now he finally has enough alcohol in him to do it. 

Happy New Year, he says, here’s to a better one next year. 

Greg’s reply comes a minute after midnight, and Tom is asleep.

Happy New Year Tom, it says, but Tom will not see it until he wakes up hungover in the morning.

**VII.**

They are both a little tipsy, stumbling down the crowded Manhattan streets. Greg hand is firmly in his, and usually, Tom would not like that, but it’s New Year’s and it’s cold, and nobody pays another pair of partiers much attention. They are two of the thousands and it does not matter to any of them.

“Wait a sec,” Greg says, pulling him to a stop, “It’s almost midnight.”

Tom stalls, and puts his hands on Greg’s waist. It’s dark enough out. And besides, he doesn’t care. He pulls Greg against him, right there for anyone to see. Greg laughs and stumbles just a bit. He looks flushed, even in the little light. Tom brushes a thumb across his cheek.

“You’re drunk,” Tom says, even though he is drunk as well, but he feels like it’s worth pointing out. Perhaps Greg is unaware.

The cheer rises up. It must be midnight. He looks around stupidly at the noise. 

“So are you,” Greg says, and kisses him. 

**VIII.**

Back home for New Year’s means his mother’s home cooking, and his father’s commentary on the special in New York. Greg eats several helpings of food, and Tom’s mother says she’s glad he likes it so much. Tom says Greg just has a habit of eating anything you put in front of him, which makes everyone laugh.

It is the first New Year’s Eve he has spent at home in a long time, just the family. Tom, his parents… and Greg, who kisses him when the ball drops, while Tom’s parents share a soft and quick kiss themselves. 

Tom puts a hand in his pocket when Greg pulls away. The ring is warm from how often he squeezes it, looking for the right time to give it to Greg. 

He hopes maybe this is the year.

**IX.**

It is New Year’s in Italy long before it is New Year’s back home, and the countdown begins while Tom has his wine refilled. Italy had been a spur of the moment trip. Well, spur of the moment on Greg’s part. Tom has had it planned for months now. He hopes it is the right choice, watching Greg over his glass. 

“What?” Greg asks.

“I have something for you,” Tom says. He knows if he doesn’t just do it, he never will. The ring will sit in his pocket forever, never used for its intended purpose. 

Greg cocks his head, “What is it?”

The crowd reaches three. 

Tom puts the ring box on the table, and with two fingers, slides it over to Greg’s place. 

Two. 

“Really?” Greg asks. 

One.

Tom nods.

**X.**

The clock strikes midnight but no one is around to hear it because all three of the house occupants-- two men and a dog-- are asleep. Mondale sleeps over Tom’s legs. He’s not supposed to sleep on the bed, but neither of them ever say no enough for him to sleep on his own bed. In truth, neither of them mind. 

The TV plays the scene in Times Square, muted. Tom is fully enveloped in Greg’s arms, and snoring. The blankets are piled high, since it had dipped below freezing during the day. Greg’s hand rests on Tom’s back, his body curled slightly. Tom likes to make fun of him for being the big spoon, but Tom likes to be held. Mondale wakes up for a moment, as if sensing the momentous occasion, but the other two are unbothered, so he repositions himself on the bed and returns to sleeping.

Tom sighs in his sleep, and unconsciously, Greg tightens his grip. They have already been asleep for an hour or so, and will sleep long into the next morning.

Midnight hits, and the next year will be better.

**Author's Note:**

> appreciate you as always! i mean it from the bottom of my heart- thank you


End file.
